


Irene of Troyius

by fresne



Series: Voyages of the Bakerstreet [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Love Potion/Spell, Other, Pheromones that aren't Alpha or Omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: When the Bakerstreet is sent to transport Princess of Irene of Troyius to Bo-hemia for a treaty, little do they realize that she has little choice in the marriage, or that there is a traitor on-board.





	1. Chapter 1

Princess Irene looked upon Counsel of Queens. "What if I refuse to mate with the King of Bo-hemia?"

"You would betray your people," said the flickering hologram of the Queen of the Northern Flights. A fine betrayal of a people willing to send her away.

"Betray the labor spent gathering royal jelly for your sustenance," said the Queen of the Flowering Dells. As if she had been born asking for such a thing. As if she had not kept to her cloister and studied so she could one day take her place at counsel as a Queen.

"Doom us to becoming a vassal state of the Dominion out of a childish desire for freedom," said the Queen of Sandy Dunes. More to the point. Princess Irene curled her many limbs to acknowledge this real reason.

"These Federation people are willing to take you to Bo-hemia. They say the Dominion will not dare interfere with the ship of such a powerful people. We will see," said the oldest Queen, she who lived beneath the earth.

They were fools to trust meat sacks. They were fools to trust the Bo-hemians, who had betrayed them to the Hive Queens of Scand Navia. Who had used the children of the last Queen given to them in alliance to tear apart whole hives and deep nests looking for secrets to their advantage. They were a weak wing to depend upon.

Princess Irene would not go to her fate lying down. "I will put on my battle garb and be a Queen!"

Princess Irene crawled out of her swaddling skin. The shroud of her larvahood. She wove the chrysalis around herself with scorn still writ large upon the puffy folds of her face.

The chrysalis dripped with acid. The acid would dissolve her larval form into genetic soup. Better that some idiot pierce the chrysalis as they carried it from Troyius. Better to never awake than be forced by foolish treaty to give endless birth within a bound hive for Bo-hemia's good and none for her own.


	2. Sherlock POV

Sherlock was annoyed to find that the Bakerstreet's good luck avoiding service as a glorified starliner came to an end. The Belisarius was investigating a distress beacon and the Al-Haytham was surveying a planetary route in the slowest manner possible.

Commodore Lestrade had arrived in the USS Stargazer, yet another of the hundred year old fleet Starfleet was chucking through the wormhole. This time a Constellation class ship. Since it was dedicated to building out the relay station on Gamma quadrant side of the wormhole, Lestrade immediately stuck them with diplomatic duty picking up Princess Irene of Troyius to ferry her from Troyius to the neighboring system of Bo-hemia for some sort of alliance ceremony with its king.

"It's a good opportunity to build up trust in the region. Drebber negotiated a good opportunity. Neither are affiliated with the Dominion, so I suspect they're trying to scope out if we can help keep them independent," said Lestrade, who at least appeared to be competent.

Still if Drebber made the offer, then Drebber should be ferrying the princess.

It was ridiculous. John merely laughed at him. "I know you're curious about them. It's rare that an insectoid race reaches the size that the Troyians are said to be."

Which since Sherlock was aware of the lecture of his that John was quoting, he did not sulk.

Not at all. Nor was he being ridiculous by sitting barefoot in his pajamas on the bridge. Hudson pinched her nose. "This was not what the Commodore meant when he said we should wear formal uniforms."

"Then he should have been more specific." Sherlock's feet were cold, so he wormed them under John, who shook his head at him. "Put your shoes on at least, we need to go meet Ambassador Crattick."

Sherlock did not need to wear shoes. He was indoors and had a robe. They went to Transporter Room Forest. "Well, beam them up already," he told McCarthy.

"Aye, sir."

Four shapes formed on the transporter pad. A brilliant green insectoid in an elaborately folded robe made several exited clicks with her thorax. "You honor us by wearing our style of clothing, and in such an exquisite form. Even to the exposing of your feet. You honor us indeed."

"Amazing," said John in that half hitch he had of breathing when he thought Sherlock had done something truly astonishing. In that moment, Sherlock decided never to admit the truth of the matter.

The insectoid continued, "I am Ambassador Crattick and this is the princesses' honor guard." The other instectoids tapped their upper and lower arms together, making a loud cracking sound.

"Where's the princess?" asked John, who couldn't see what was right in front of him.

"That," said Sherlock pointing at the oblong object on the transporter pad, "is the princess."

Godfreya Norton, the ship's entomologist specializing in insectoid lifeforms said, "She's undergoing some form of chrysalis."

"Yes," said Crattick. "You are correct. She is undergoing pupa transformation. When she emerges, she'll be ready to be mated with the King of Bo-hemia."

"Wait, what?" said John. "I thought she was going to negotiate some sort of treaty with Bo-hemia."

Crattick laughed. "You are very amusing. The idea of a Troyian queen negotiating." Ambassador Crattick's flicked all four of her gauzy wings. "When she emerges whoever she touches will be driven mad with love for her. After she mates successfully, she will bite his head off and produce a generation of workers and soldiers for the benefit of Bo-hemia. It is how we maintained our alliance centuries ago, and will do so again in the face of Dominion aggression."

Norton stopped examining the pod. "And the king of Bo-hemia wants to marry her? Why doesn't he just," and was cut off by Crattick.

"This treaty is vital to Bo-hemia's continued freedom from the Dominion. Neither of them have much choice in the matter." Crattick's multifaceted eyes sparkled in the transporter room light. "It is said to be quite the experience. Not for me, of course." Obvious given that she, and the pronoun she was arguable, was clearly a member of a worker gender based on her wing formation. "When the mating flight is done, she'll assume her stationary form and produce a hive of workers and soldiers for Bo-hemia. In return, we will get materials of some use." She held up her upper arms as if to indicate that all this was obvious. "Have you prepared the cargo hold to our specifications?"

Dull.

Obvious.

Still, they were required to troop down with Yao to demonstrate that there was a suitable grav unit there to keep the Princess Irene's chrysalis off the floor and away from the fungus that could form if not suspended.

Norton said, "I'll stay with the chrysalis while she's here. Your princess is under excellent care."

Crattick chirped. "She will be guarded by her honor guard."

Dull.

Sherlock left them to standing motionless.

That night, John came to Sherlock's quarters, which had Sherlock glad that John could not hear his accelerated heartrate. However, his first words were the sort of thing that had gotten Sherlock into difficulties in the past. "Sherlock, I'm deeply uncomfortable about this situation. We're taking a sentient being to be forcibly paired with someone she's going to kill. Then she'll be trapped spawning eggs for the rest of her life."

Sherlock was not responsible for insectoid biological imperatives, but had learned a thing or two in the years he'd known John. Therefore he did not express that thought out loud.

"I could come up with a reason to go back to Troyius?" He could think of a dozen ways to engineer a reason they would need to do so.

"No, I just." John kicked at nothing on the floor. "We should let her out so she can decide what she wants in a place where she's not under pressure. That seems like a more Federation thing to do. Not being a part of being… intergalactic slave traders."

"So she can make the entire crew fall in love with her." John would fall in love with her and get his head removed. "No one in the crew is getting decapitated and eaten." He began to plot an algorithm to track John's whereabouts to ensure he went nowhere near the cargo bay.

"No! That's not what I meant." His fists curled. "What made you like this?"

Sherlock answered simply, if not entirely truthfully, "I think we've established that I don't know."

John stomped out, but his scent lingered in the air. Permeating everything.

The next day, Smith identified a Dominion ship just at the edge of sensor range.

Moriarty said, "It could just be an after image. A ghost in the system, as a result of our last recalibration." Admittedly, the last three patches engineering had applied to Julian had resulted in parts of him going missing and then there were the glitches in his memory. Possibly due to Crewman Stonn repurposing the hologram to teach basic math and reading to children, but there had been no issues with the sensors. Sherlock had worked with Yao recalibrating them personally. He had also personally assigned Stonn the job of making a holographic teacher, which would hopefully stop him from continuously upgrading the hologram, despite his protests he'd only done it the once.

Donovan said, "We should go to yellow alert."

The Bakerstreet shuddered and the lights flickered out and then at the dimmer emergency power level. "We've lost power," said Hunter entirely unnecessarily.

Before Sherlock could call down to engineering, Yao somewhat redundantly commed up to inform them that there had been an act of sabotage in engineering. "I don't know how it happened. It's the dilithium crystals. Half of them are cracked. We'll need to call for assistance from the Stargazer. That's the closest Federation ship."

Donovan's station beeped. She said, "Someone is signaling the Dominion ship from the cargo hold." She tapped her com. "Washington and Cho meet me in the cargo hold."

Sherlock followed unwilling not to be part of the action. He almost commed John, but remembered that he was just as likely to try and liberate the princess and be eaten. Best that he stay where he was.

One of the Troyian guards, razor wings vibrating in flight, fired on them as soon as they entered the cargo hold. Crattick and the other guard were dead on the floor. Norton was taking shelter behind a consol.

Sherlock opted not to go through the door. Rather he went through the now fairly familiar Jeffries tubes and dropped on the honorless guard from above. His weight carrying them both to the ground with a loud boom.

She sliced at him with razor sharp wings that cut deeply into his hands and chest. Managing to struggle free. She kicked Washington, as he came forward to help. Washington was thrown against the chrysalis pod. It tilted on its grav supports and fell to the ground with an ominous crack and squelching sound.

The guard yelled, "It is too late. I will…" what she would or would not have done were cut short as Princess Irene emerged from her chrysalis. She was magnificent. A brilliant red and gold, she towered over everyone in the room. Her external skeleton glistening, naked, and apparently hungry as she picked up the guard, broke her in half and consumed significant portions of what lay inside her chiton.

Sherlock held his phaser pointed at Princess Irene, which he slowly lowered as her scent wafted her perfection into his lungs. Fortunate lumps of flesh to breath in such glory.

Eventually, she wiped ichor off her mouth and gently aired her golden wings. She walked around the room. Lightly touching each of them with one of her four hands. "Such pretty things. Such a pretty ship. How fortunate that I woke early. I think I'll stay here."

She was magnificent. Beautiful. Glorious. He knelt before her as a prince should kneel before a Queen. "Of course, my ship exists to serve you."

She toyed with the string of crystals around her neck, the only thing fit to be upon her person. "Mmm… I thought you'd say that."

Norton came forward. "I've never seen anything or anyone like you."

"But, but," said Donovan, tears welling in her eyes. "What about your wedding? You're marrying someone else."

"No fear of that," said his love, his life, his Queen. "I'm not letting anyone clip my wings." She tilted her triangular head this way and that. "I'll mate with one of you meat sacks, and my children will be for my glory. We shall fly forever upon my ship and explore entirely different realms. Perhaps this… oddly named Alpha Quadrant. Though surely where I reside the alpha and that is the omega."

Donovan said, "Yes, my Queen."

They led Queen Irene to her new bridge. "Mmm… such a fine craft."

Moriarty seemed to find the situation amusing, as if her perfection could do anything but fill a heart with awe. "Never a dull moment on the Bakerstreet."

She sat down in her throne couch. She pointed at the image of the Dominon ship approaching them. "What are they doing here? Outrun them. I'm not in the mood for the Dominion right now."

Hunter wept. "I'm sorry, our engines are broken and we're defenseless, I mean we have our shields, but they'll be able to run circles around us and then you'll die." She said this last with a wail.

"Why are my engines broken?"

"Your guard blew up our dilithium crystals, which are critical for the engine to function," said Donovan. "How glorious that you ate her."

Sherlock couldn't help but nod his agreement. Donovan was an idiot, but she was not wrong. That had been glorious.

Moriarty giggled, because he was a buffoon and didn't understand love.

"Fix my ship!" said Queen Irene in an imperious tone.

"We can't," sobbed Smith. "We don't have any replacements crystals."

"Oh, is that all," said Queen Irene, plucking the crystals from her neck. "You may use these."

"Thank you. Thank you," said Smith, who was lucky enough to be touched again by Queen Irene.

"Now then," said his Queen. "I'd like to mate. You…" She gestured that Sherlock should have the honor of approaching. "You smell delicious. Let's have dinner."

Norton said, "My Queen, perhaps if you eat first," but was cut off.

Just then, the turbo lift door opened and John came in. "Sherlock, I passed my test. I'm a doctor! Officially."

His scent was like a slap. A spring breeze. Bittersweet and filled Sherlock with longing. Realization. An odd moment for such understanding, but then again, love was merely a chemical reaction.

Until Princess Irene infected him with the common cold, how could he understand that he already had a far more virulent and potent form of the same disease?

He looked at Princess Irene, who despite no longer being an object of adoration, was a magnificent creature.

John grabbed Donovan's phaser. "Get away from Sherlock."

His shot went wild as Donovan knocked his arm up and sent him flying backwards with a kick. "Defend the Queen!"

Sherlock jumped away from Princess Irene, grabbed John's hand, and pulled him into the ready room. As the door closed, and he locked it, he said, "I thought you wanted to free her?"

"I'm more concerned that she doesn't bite you head off."

"Appreciated." They grinned at each other foolishly. Sherlock perhaps more of a fool than John given the enormity of his realization.

John said, "If it's a pheromone, I'm going to need a sample of the oil on her skin if we're going to come up with an antidote."

Sherlock held up the sleeve of his robe, which was well saturated with an oily and viscous substance.

John shook his head. "Amazing."

There was a loud boom against the door. "We should move this party," he tapped his com. "Emergency beam out from my ready room to Sickbay."

As they materialized, Julian appeared. "Congratulations again on your test, John."

Sherlock flapped a hand at him. "No time. There's an insect on the bridge whose chiton gives off some sort of love spell, we'll need to generate a cure."

Behind him, John said, "Julian, where were you during the middle of the exam?"

"What do you mean, John?" Julian looked puzzled. "I was there proctoring your exam during the entire time."

"No, no you weren't. I was a little surprised, but I looked up at fifteen hundred and seven to fifteen hundred and nineteen, and you weren't in Sickbay, and there were no patients."

"We don't have time for this," said Sherlock, who may have come to a realization, but was still in the end, himself. A more potent and yet better disease then, this form of love. "Computer, isolate the bridge and transfer all command function to engineering." He removed his robe and tossed it to Julian. "Analyze the components on the right sleeve and come up with an antidote."

He glanced at John, who grinned. "I'm a Doctor. I've got this. You go to engineering."

He arrived in engineering to find Yao already at work cutting the dilithium crystals, and a unconscious Smith lying down in one of the engineering couches. "She seemed agitated, so I stunned her," said Yao not looking up from what she was doing.

"Have you accounted for the fragmentation of the internal core structure of unprocessed dilithium?"

"Yes!" said Yao somewhat sharply. She'd gotten more accustomed to speaking sharply with him since they'd done so many modifications together. "They were some of the purest crystals I've ever seen. No wonder the Dominion is interested in Troyius." She used some tongs to play the crystals in the array.

The new dilithium crystals worked perfectly in the engines.

Sherlock focused on determined how best to incapacitate the bridge crew. In the end, it was simplest to climb back up and stun them. Not entirely elegant, but effective. Sherlock was at least immune. When John had the antidote, Sherlock applied it.

Until then, Princess Irene was transferred to quarantine.

Sherlock and John visited Princess Irene there. She stood up. All four arms raised in supplication. "I still have no desire to have my wings clipped."

"What if we gave you your own ship?" said John, suddenly. "Not that I'm condoning your attempted takeover, but I do see where you're not being given a lot options."

"Hmmm," said Princess Irene. "Yes."

"John?" said Sherlock, not certain he liked where this was going. "We cannot give her a shuttle."

"We hardly use 221A," said John, in a wheedling tone. One that Sherlock was powerless to resist.

They gave her the 221A, and as it happened she didn't leave alone. Ensign Norton, left with her. "What I keep trying to say is in insect species where the egg producer devours the egg fertilizer after mating, it only occurs when there isn't adequate food. If Princess Irene has a big meal first, no need to bite anyone's head off."

"Unless I want to," said Princess Irene.

"Unless you're being threatened," said Norton firmly.

Princess Irene rolled multi-faceted eyes. "Fine, Godfreya Norton. Only if I'm threatened."

"Call me Kate," said Norton. "I've always found my first name a bit much."

A feeling with which Sherlock could sympathize, if in the reverse direction. Why be a William, when he could be a Sherlock.

As the shuttle set off, John said, "Seems like a bit of a gamble, just to study insects."

"To study something she loves," said Sherlock.

They went to the ready room to decide how to word the report to Starfleet.

"Wasn't her wedding meant to unite two systems," said Smith in a puzzled tone. "Like she was supposed to give birth to a bunch of eggs or something."

Sherlock waved off the question.

Hudson said, "Two systems that rely on a wedding to unite has other problems."

"What I'm curious about, is how Holmes broke free from her spell all on his own," said Yao.

Hudson laughed and then sobered looking at Yao's face. "Oh, you're serious."

Hunter giggled.

"It was his love of the ship, I'm sure," said Donovan dryly.

Sherlock thought morosely, that he was not so fortunate.

When John's next scenario called for a love spell in a medieval Europe setting, Sherlock whispered quite truthfully to John, "I am the one under your spell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Elaan_of_Troyius_(episode)  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/The_Perfect_Mate_(episode)
> 
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Constellation_class
> 
> Also, enter Lestrade.


End file.
